Note: In this post, I discuss among other things my recent visit to the small town of Żytna, Poland (German: Zyttna) where an inn once owned by my great-great-granduncle Dr. Jonas Bruck at one time stood. During my recent trip, I had the opportunity to meet some locals who are researching and writing about the history of Żytna and elsewhere in Silesia, including documenting its former Jewish inhabitants.
In contemplating a title for the current post, I was reminded of a French proverb my mother used to say to me as a child. The phrase “If Paris were small, we’d put it in a bottle” is an English translation of a well-known French proverb, “Avec des si on mettrait Paris en bouteille” (literally: “With ‘ifs’ one could put Paris in a bottle”). The meaning of the phrase is that it is pointless to speculate about unrealistic or impossible hypothetical situations because “ifs” do not change reality.
Nevertheless, we’re all guilty of senseless conjectures. In my case, I’ve often wondered why my aunt Suzanne and uncle Dr. Franz Müller did not escape to America after Hitler came to power in 1933 and they left Berlin. This would have been a viable option at the time since my uncle and aunt had contacts in America and the financial means to support themselves. Instead, my aunt and uncle went to Fiesole above Florence, then in 1938, after they were forced to leave Italy, they went to the small town of Fayence, France where my uncle’s daughter and son-in-law lived. In August 1942, my aunt Suzanne along with her stepdaughter’s brother-in-law were arrested there by the Vichy French collaborators and deported to and murdered in Auschwitz.
Given the widespread destruction wrought in Europe by the cataclysmic events of the Second World War, including areas of Germany and Poland where much of my Jewish family was concentrated, I’ve often pondered what happened to some of the places associated with my family. While by no means equating the murder of family with the destruction of places connected to them, it was part of the systematic dismantling of the fabric of the community in which they lived and interacted with their neighbors.
The hotel in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by my family for roughly 75 years, I know survived the war only to see post-war Communist authorities tear it down to “harvest” bricks to reconstruct Warsaw. (Figure 1) And the building in Tiegenhof in the Free City of Danzig (today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland) where my father lived and had his dental clinic was bombed and destroyed during the war by passing Russian bombers after German partisans shot at the planes. (Figure 2)
Readers can thus imagine my interest when I discover a place still exists where I have proof in the form of photos that one of my relatives visited, lived, or worked, such as the home I recently wrote about in Post 188 in Kiesewald (today: Michałowice, Poland). The house in Michałowice is just the second place in Poland I’ve visited where I have photos of my father standing in the same place 90 or more years ago. The first was in Petershagen (today: Zelichowo, Poland), just outside Tiegenhof, where my father had his dental practice between April 1932 and April 1937. I wrote about that visit in Post 7. (Figures 3-4)
For the most part, however, the sites in Europe connected to my Jewish family did not survive the war. The current post is about another location that I learned and wrote about in 2023. It was once owned by one of my esteemed ancestors, Dr. Jonas Bruck (1813-1883). (Figure 5) It was an inn located in the small town of Żytna, Poland about 170km (~105 miles) southeast of Breslau (today: Wrocław, Poland), where Jonas was an eminent dentist.
In Post 145, I discussed primary source documents found and sent to me by a reader, a teacher/historian Mr. Jan Krajczok from Rybnik, Poland, located a mere 17.5km (~11 miles) east of Żytna. Originally uncertain whether the reference in the records to a Jonas Bruck related to my great-great-granduncle, I asked my German friend Peter Hanke for help translating the relevant land registers. As I explained in Post 145, Peter was able to confirm the involvement by the “dentist Dr. Jonas Bruck” in the ownership of the inn in Żytna. Based on Peter’s translation, it is clear my ancestor owned the inn from roughly 1846 to 1859. This was a most unexpected finding. Because of the distance between Breslau and Żytna and because the establishment was an inn, I assume it was an investment property, not a second home.
Jan is a subscriber to my blog and we have periodically corresponded regarding questions mostly related to the history of Silesia. Knowing I would be visiting Racibórz this past August, I asked Jan whether we could meet and perhaps visit the place in Żytna where the inn owned by Jonas once stood. Its precise location is known because contemporary postcards survive; I discussed and illustrated these in Post 145, Postscript.
Jan was most pleased to give my wife and me a tour, and this turned into a highly entertaining get-together. Jan picked us up in Racibórz, and took us to the home of Iwona Witt, née Hadam (Figure 6) and her husband Aurel Witt, residents of Żytna, a town of only about 600 people. Iwona is currently in the final throes of writing a book about the history of her village. Having grown up in the area and knowing most of the locals has given her unprecedented access to people’s homes and their collective memories and stories. Despite Iwona’s local connections, some residents have refused to even let her inside their homes or talk to her about what must be ugly wartime history. Readers can only imagine how difficult it would be for an outsider like me with no facility in Polish to draw out any of the stories Iwona is writing about.
Postcards of the inn once owned by Jonas Bruck along with a beer mug (Figures 7-8) believed to have come from the inn’s restaurant, some illustrated in Post 145, Postscript, were given to Iwona by old time residents along with other local memorabilia. Iwona took us to the site where the inn formerly stood (Figure 9) and explained the circumstances that ultimately led to the inn’s destruction. As the Russians were encircling the area in the final days of the war, the skirmish line between the Russian and German troops was along the main road in front of the inn. (Figure 10) Believing they were being shot at from the upper floors of the inn, the Russians used flamethrowers to fend off the German soldiers and set the structure aflame. While the fire was apparently doused before the inn was destroyed, it was not salvageable and was eventually torn down during the 1950s. Thus, the inn was dismantled long after Dr. Jonas Bruck had sold it.
While the inn did not endure, other contemporary structures such as a building and church tower across the street from the inn have survived. (Figure 11) They can be seen on a historic picture Iwona shared with me during our visit. (Figure 12) The structure to the left of the two women standing in Figure 12 is the inn formerly owned by my great-great-granduncle.
Apropos of the French proverb and its relevance to unrealistic hypotheticals, there are nonetheless occasions when places connected to my family have survived. As mentioned, I’ve visited two of them in Poland, but am aware of another in Fiesole, Italy where, as mentioned above, my aunt and uncle lived after they decamped from Berlin in 1935. It was called the Villa Primavera (Figure 13-14b), and my aunt ran it with another Jewish woman as a bed-and-breakfast until 1938. I’ve tried on three occasions to visit the villa, to no avail. Being the generally persistent sort, I intend to give it another try in February 2026.
In conclusion, I would remind readers that many places in Poland associated with one’s Jewish ancestors, particularly places that are today largely devoid of Jews, have locals who are interested in researching and rediscovering their town’s Jewish history. Such is the case with Iwona who was thrilled to learn of the Jewish connection to her hometown in the personage of my ancestor Jonas Bruck. It is also true of another friend from Rybnik, Małgorzata Płoszaj (Figure 15), who has written two books about its former Jewish inhabitants. And it is also true in my father’s birthplace of Racibórz where yet another friend, Magda Wawoczny, who is enrolled in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Kraków, is researching and writing extensively about the town’s former Jewish families and history. It behooves readers to seek out these local contacts to develop a more rounded view of available resources and historical events.
Note: In this post, I present newly acquired information about Ratibor’s former “Photo-Helios” studio, a one-time producer of cabinet cards. The proprietors were Hans and Emma Ogermann, the parents of Claus Ogerman (one “n”), a very famous musical arranger, conductor, and composer who made his name in America. Beyond being connected to Claus, I’ve been contacted by a few descendants of people who worked in the studio in the 1930s-1940s, one of whom shared photos taken inside. As readers will discover, these photos have allowed me to make connections to a lady once buried in Ratibor’s Jewish cemetery. There are multiple links I discuss.
Cabinet cards were a popular 19th century photographic medium featuring a photographic print mounted on a sturdy cardstock, typically measuring 4.25 x 6.5 inches. They were larger than their predecessor, the carte-de-visite, and were named “cabinet” cards because they were meant to be displayed on shelves or in cabinets. Introduced in 1863, they were widely used for studio portraits and other subjects until the early 20th century, when smaller more portable cameras became popular.
One of the producers of these cabinet cards in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), my father’s birthplace, was “Photo-Helios.” In December 2018, an English lady named Ms. Gisela Szpytko asked me about this studio explaining that her mother had worked there during the 1930s. Unfamiliar with this workshop, I turned to my now-deceased dear friend from Racibórz, retired lawyer and Silesian historian Pawel Newerla, for information. He sent me a postcard of LangeStraße (German name for “Long Street”) the street on which the studio was located (Figure 1a), known today as Ulica Dluga (Polish also for “Long Street”), with a fuzzy image of the “Fotografie Helios” store sign hanging in the distance. (Figure 1b) Pawel also sent me an advertisement for “Photo-Helios” from a 1936 Ratibor Address book (Figure 2), along with a page from a 1923 Ratibor Address Book listing all the town’s photo studios at the time. (Figures 3a-b) The latter identified the proprietor of Photo-Helios as Hans Ogermann, spelled with two “n’s.” More on this below.
Personally owning a few cabinet cards produced in Ratibor (Figures 4a-b), though none by Photo-Helios, Ms. Szyptko’s query provided the inspiration for Post 72. Following its publication in January 2020, I expected this would be the end of the story. While hardly the most widely read of my posts, Post 72 has generated more comments than any other. Post 138 and Guest Post 139 by Magda Wawoczny, a PhD. student from Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland hailing from Racibórz, emanated from queries and related findings. And recent questions add to the intrigue surrounding Photo-Helios with the current post being the result.
Following publication of Post 72, in January 2021, I was contacted by Jakub “Kuba” Stankiewicz, the Director of Jazz Studies at the Academy of Music in Wrocław, Poland. Being approached by an academician, while not unprecedented, was curious. Kuba asked whether I knew Photo-Helios had been owned by Claus Ogerman’s parents? By then, I realized Hans Ogermann had been the proprietor but knew nothing about his son Claus Ogerman (1930-2016). (Figure 5) (Parenthetically, Claus’ surname has only one “n.”) To say I felt unread would be an understatement, particularly when Kuba told me that Claus was well-known and made his name in America. Readers can find him in Wikipedia but suffice it to say that Claus was an exceptionally gifted German arranger, conductor, and composer. He is best known for his work with Billie Holiday, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Frank Sinatra, Bill Evans, Michael Brecker, Barbra Streisand, Leslie Gore, Diana Krall, and many other “A-listers.”
I will return later to my ongoing association with Kuba Stankiewicz, whom my wife and I met for the first time during our recent trip to Poland.
The next connection to Photo-Helios came in May 2023 when a German lady named Ms. Jessica Nastos contacted me. Astonishingly, Jessica’s great-grandmother had also worked in the workshop during the 1930s-1940s. Jessica graciously sent me a series of photos including group pictures taken inside the studio from this period, with some of the subjects identified by name; Jessica also sent an image of a tattered envelope with the name and address of the business embossed on it. (Figure 6)
As I wrote in Post 138, Jessica informed me that her great-grandmother was a lady named Elzbieta “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka (1926-2016). When she told me this I was flabbergasted since I’d previously come across her great-grandmother’s name in a different context. Let me explain. Shortly before Jessica Nastos contacted me, Ms. Magda Wawoczny, the student from Jagiellonian University and the guest author of Post 139, had told me of her research on the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor. In particular, she told me of her interest in a headstone belonging to a Minna Linzer, née Guttmann.
To briefly remind readers, in Post 13 and Post 13, Postscript, I explained how the cemetery had been destroyed in 1973 by the Communist authorities seeking to erase all evidence of prior German presence in the area. Before it was destroyed, at the request of the city authorities, photo documentation of all the burials and headstones was made by a Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński. (Figure 7) The documentation is on file at the Muzeum w Raciborzu, including a photo of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann’s headstone. (Figure 8)
As Magda wrote in Post 139 about the headstone in Ratibor’s Jewish cemetery:
“During my archival investigations, my attention was drawn to an application by a woman from Racibórz who requested permission from the city authorities to exhume the body of her grandmother Minna Linzer from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery and transfer it together with the tombstone to the Catholic cemetery in the Ostróg district on Rudzka street. The woman emphasized that in the face of the anticipated liquidation of the cemetery, she felt an obligation to save the grave of her grandmother that she had taken care of and maintained for many years.”
The woman making the request was none other than Elizabeth (Elzbieta) “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka, Minna Linzer’s granddaughter.
It was then I realized that my seemingly unrelated research into Photo-Helios overlapped with Magda’s investigation into one headstone from the former Jewish cemetery. I was thrilled when I noticed that among Jessica Nastos’ pictures was one of Elzbieta as an infant with her unmarried parents, the Jewish man Hans (Jan) Linzer and the Catholic woman Pauline Grzonka (Figure 9); there were also several other photos taken inside Photo-Helios that included Elzbieta. (Figures 10-13)
Firstly, seeking to shield Elzbieta from antisemitism and the Nazis subsequent prohibition of marriages between Jews and non-Jews, Elzbieta’s parents never married though they symbolically exchanged rings as keepsakes. Pauline (1895-1971) and Elzbieta (1926-2016) survived the Holocaust, while Hans (Jan) Linzer (1901-1945) was murdered in Auschwitz, along with his father and two of his three siblings.
Secondly, as Magda pointed out in Post 139, Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka’s application to Racibórz city authorities asking to exhume her grandmother’s grave was accompanied by a card with the inscription that read “eternal memory of those lost in the Auschwitz camp: Hermann Linzer, Jan Linzer, Małgorzata and Henryk Schiftan, Lota and Maks Tichauer.” (Figure 14) As readers can see on Minna Linzer’s headstone these names are inscribed on it. (Figure 15) They correspond to Minna’s husband Hermann, three of their four children, and two of their sons-in-law, all of whom were murdered in Auschwitz.
In May 2025, Jessica Nastos uncovered a video of an interview she conducted with her great-grandmother Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka (1926-2016) in May 2013 for a high school project entitled “Fear During the Nazi Regime.” She graciously shared a copy of the digitally remastered video with English subtitles, which unfortunately I’m unable to share with readers. Suffice it to say, it is very moving.
Two recent emails attest to the continued interest in Photo-Helios and the people associated with it. Both queries require follow-up.
In mid-October 2025 I was contacted by a lady of Slovakian origin named Monika. She was recently searching for an old photo school in Ratibor when she stumbled on my blog Post 138. The reason for her interest is that her father Leopold “Leo” Simon (Figures 16a-b), who was also a photographer, lived in Ratibor from 1942 until 1944, and astonishingly apprenticed at Photo-Helios during that time! She was stunned when she recognized her father in one of the group pictures sent to me by Jessica Nastos, namely Figure 10 in Post 139 (Figure 17), a person I misidentified as Hans Ogermann, the owner of Photo Helios.
I estimate Monika’s father Leo was born around 1928 and would have been between 14 and 16 years old when he worked at Photo-Helios.
Another recent contact is related to the Linzer family, a contact that has not yet fully panned out. As I mentioned above, Hans (Jan) Linzer had three siblings. (Figure 18) The youngest was Leo born in 1908, the only one of Hermann and Minna Linzer’s four children to survive the Shoah. In mid-September, a German lady named Ms. Stephanie Scheibl reached out to me. She mentioned a book and some old photographs she inherited from her grandmother that were in turn bequeathed to her by her father Leo Linzer!!! He may have inherited them from his parents Hermann and Minna Linzer!! Stephanie would of course be Leo’s great-granddaughter. There might be some rare images among Stephanie’s photos.
Let me say a few more words about Kuba Stankiewicz. Since first being introduced to Kuba in 2021, we’ve stayed in touch. Kuba’s hometown, Wrocław, Breslau as it was known during the German era, is a city where my Bruck family had longstanding ties. From time to time, I’ve asked Kuba whether German-era buildings connected to my family still exist, and Kuba has graciously investigated and occasionally even sent pictures. Periodically, I’ve referred readers or family members visiting Wrocław to Kuba or put him in touch with one of my local Wrocław contacts. We had always hoped to meet face-to-face, so prior to my recent visit to Poland, I proposed that we get together. Unfortunately, meeting in Wrocław was not possible since he was teaching a student workshop that week out-of-town in a place called Jastrzębie-Zdrój.
Since our next stop after Wrocław was Racibórz, which is only about 30km north-northwest of Jastrzębie-Zdrój. Kuba suggested meeting in Racibórz on the 25th of August which worked perfectly. Prior to going for lunch, we took a stroll along Ulica Dluga, formerly LangeStraße where the Helios-Photo had once stood. Coincidentally, a photo shop sits in almost the same spot as the earlier studio though the current store bears no relationship to the earlier workshop. At lunch Kuba introduced my wife Ann and me to Michał Fita, Racibórz’s former Vice-Mayor, who happens to be a collector of Claus Ogerman-arranged discography. (Figure 19) Michał brought several of his most recent acquisitions to show us.
During lunch Michał and Kuba discussed an upcoming conference they had planned in Racibórz for Claus Ogerman to introduce the current generation to the city’s long-lost son. It turns out that steps away from where we ate lunch stands an anodized aluminum interpretive panel showing the no-longer standing house where Claus Ogerman was born and grew up which was located on Racibórz’s Rynek or Market Square. (Figure 20)
The conference on Claus Ogerman took place in Raciborz on the 17th of October. I attach a YouTube interview Michał gave during the conference which is interpreted into English.
Coincidentally, Diana Krall, whose music Claus Ogerman arranged, performed on the eve of the conference in the nearby Polish town of Zabrze (German: Hindenburg). Michal and Kuba attended the concert, met Diana backstage, and had their picture taken with her. (Figure 21) She was thrilled to learn that a conference was planned for Claus because with age she realizes what a genius he was.
Each new contact about Photo-Helios adds to the intrigue. What makes the story even more compelling is how intertwined it is with the story of Minna Linzer, the Jewish lady reburied in Raciborz’s Catholic cemetery, because Minna’s granddaughter Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka worked in the photo studio. In the 15-minute interview Jessica Nastos did with her great-grandmother I learned it is largely because of Emma Ogermann’s intervention that Elzbieta, as a half-Jew and so-called mischling, was saved from deportation to a concentration camp.
And, then one must not forget another connection that Magda Wawoczny discussed in Post 139. Not only did Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka look after her own grandmother’s grave in the former Jewish cemetery, but she also looked after Monica Lewinsky’s great-grandfather Salo Lewinsky’s grave (Figure 22) after the Lewinskys left Ratibor in the 1920s for El Salvador. As it happens, the Lewinsky and Linzer families were friends and remained so following the Lewinskys departure.
Magda’s recent contact with Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, Monica’s father, has resulted in Bernard donating an extensive collection of postcards his father George Lewinsky (1903-1989) received while living in Ratibor. (Figure 23) Magda recently delivered a presentation on these postcards and her findings. During her research at the Leo Baeck Institute in New York, Magda found a digitized songbook from the former Ratibor synagogue, music performed in conjunction with her presentation.
In coming weeks, I hope to learn more about Photo-Helios since the former workshop seems to generate riveting new links! As regular readers know, these often-unexpected connections get me quite excited!
Note: In a post I’ve long wanted to write, using maps and contemporary accounts, I discuss the history of the property where the inn stood that my family owned from ca. 1850 until 1926 in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. I also make a case for when I think the hotel was likely constructed.
I’ve spilled a lot of ink writing about my next of kin’s business in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel (Figures 1-2), owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. My recently departed friend Paul Newerla from Racibórz (Figure 3), a lawyer who found his second calling in retirement researching and writing about the history of Ratibor and Silesia, was very instrumental in furthering my understanding of the hotel’s history and generously sharing multiple historical references and illustrations related to the establishment.
Paul was never able to tell me exactly when the inn was constructed and whether a previous owner had built the structure. For the longest time, I imagined the name “Prinz von Preußen” meant it might have been erected and lived in by a member of the von Preußen family, a royal lineage with longstanding ties to Silesia. Another friend whom I’ve often mentioned to readers, Peter Albrecht von Preußen (Figure 4), a descendant of this illustrious bloodline now living in the United States, explained to me that the “Prinz von Preußen” name was franchised from at least the 19th century. Thus, the Bruck Hotel’s incorporation of the Prinz von Preußen honorific may simply reflect a business arrangement. So far evidence of this has not been found.
One document Paul was unable to track down in theArchiwum Państwowe w Katowicach Oddział w Raciborzu, the State Archives in Katowice, Branch in Racibórz, was the so-called Grundbuch, the land register, for the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Grundbuch means the applicable official register held by the Land Registry in which, among other things, the rights of ownership in, and encumbrances on, a plot of land are registered.
In Post 61, I discussed how Paul found the Grundbuch for the Zuckerfabrik, the sugar factory owned by distant family relatives, located in Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland] outside Ratibor, among the uncatalogued documents in the basement of the Racibórz State Archives. Regular readers know I’ve written multiple posts about the Zuckerfabrik. Had Paul been able to locate the Grundbuch for the Bruck’s Hotel, it might have shed some light on when the building was built and/or exactly when my family purchased the establishment. Whether the file still exists is an unanswered question though I suspect if it did Paul Newerla would have tracked it down.
Another of my Polish friends, Małgosia Ploszaj (Figure 5), from Rybnik, Poland, 15 miles east of Racibórz, was able to find a police file in the Racibórz State Archives related to the Bruck’s Hotel (Figures 6a-b), but this dated to the period that my grandparents, Felix (1864-1927) and Else Bruck (1873-1957), owned the hotel during the first quarter of the 20th century. This file includes reports on periodic inspections conducted by the local police; safety issues my grandparents were compelled to address; authorizations they were required to obtain to operate beyond normal working hours; violations for which they were fined, etc. Nothing in the file related to the history nor tenancy of the hotel prior to my grandparents’ ownership.
My good friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen spent a good deal of time explaining the contents of this police file. Additionally, because of his own family’s connection to Silesia, he spent a lot of time searching publications for mentions of the hotel and the sequential Bruck family members who owned the inn, namely, Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), Fedor Bruck (1834-1892), and Felix Bruck (1864-1927).
One of the most useful public domain sources Peter discovered was a 695-page book entitled “Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor,” “History of the Town of Ratibor,” written by Augustin Weltzel in 1861. (Figure 7) Therein, Peter found mention of a Bruck who was a “gastwirth,” an innkeeper, no doubt Samuel Bruck (1808-1863) the original owner of the Bruck’s Hotel. (Figure 8)
The book is written in Fraktur, which was the subject of Post 154. Unfortunately, the text has not been transcribed into German, nor has it been translated into Polish or English. However, because Peter can read Fraktur, he graciously perused and summarized relevant sections of Weltzel’s book.
This book was commissioned in 1859 by the Protestant Church in Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], who had searched in the archives and discovered that the history of the entire Upper Silesian region, a principally Catholic area at the time, had not been documented. As a result, Dr. Weltzel, a Catholic Priest, was contracted to write about Ratibor. This seemingly odd arrangement was an indirect outcome of the First Silesian War from 1740 to 1742 which resulted in Prussia seizing most of the region of Silesia (today mostly in southwestern Poland) from Austria but Catholics in Silesia being guaranteed the right to continue practicing their religion.
Based on Peter’s synopsis and analysis, I can reconstruct a partial history of the property where the Bruck’s Hotel was built and theorize when the hotel is likely to have been constructed. Another of my Polish contacts from Racibórz is Magda Wawoczny, an acquaintance in the Jewish Studies program at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland. At my request, she graciously sent me high-resolution plans of Ratibor from 1831 and 1843, as well as a map from 1812 with a birds-eye view of Ratibor and its fortifications, that allow me to clarify using contemporary maps what likely was going on in the area at the time in conjunction with Augustin Weltzel’s description of historic events.
First, a brief digression. I’ve periodically told readers about my “boots on the ground” without whom I would be unable to relate my family stories to the depth I feel is required. As readers can easily tell, I have limited knowledge about many of the subjects I discuss so the assistance of knowledgeable people is crucial. In the case of this post, for example, I felt the need to illustrate with historic maps what Ratibor may have looked like at different points in time to make the case for approximately when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been constructed.
Erroneously recalling there exists a map from 1829 with the Bruck’s Hotel shown, I asked Magda, my student acquaintance from Racibórz, if she could track it down for me. In the process, Magda directed me to a historical portal run by her father, Grzegorz Wawoczny, a historian. The portal includes a post written by a German gentleman, Christoph Sottor, describing the oldest plans of the city of Ratibor. This is how I learned about the 1812, 1831, and 1843 plans of Ratibor mentioned above. This post was very useful and one I encourage readers with an ancestral link to Ratibor to skim:
Historically, Ratibor was a fortified castle-town. The period the Bruck’s Hotel could conceivably have been built is closely related to when the fortifications surrounding Ratibor were dismantled because of the hotel’s proximity to where the protective walls once stood. Let me briefly relate to readers some of the history of the town’s defensive system. The defensive walls have existed in Ratibor since 1299. They were extended in the 14th century, and several fortified towers and three wooden gates were later added. A deep moat was constructed in front of the walls. The curtain walls were reinforced in 1663 in anticipation of a Turkish invasion.
Beginning in the 18th century, the fortifications were gradually eliminated. Between 1764 and 1771 the moat was filled in. According to Weltzel, the wooden gate (Figure 22) of the defensive tower nearest where the Bruck’s Hotel was eventually built was removed in 1825 and relocated to the Ratibor side of the bridge crossing the nearby Oder River; some of the nearby curtain walls were removed but the tower remained.
All that remains of the fortifications today is a Renaissance style tower constructed in 1574 and some remnants of the Gothic curtain walls that abutted this tower. (Figures 9-10) At the apex of the tower, there is an attic with embrasures (sometimes called gun holes) and four turrets. The building provided shelter for the garrison of defenders and was also used as a prison tower.
The removal of the moat, including the gradual elimination of some of the defensive structures, coincides with the end of the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). Let me say a few words about this conflict.
The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) was a global conflict involving most of Europe’s great powers that was fought primarily in Europe, the Americas, and Asia-Pacific. Without getting too far into the weeds, suffice it to say the opposing alliances were led by Great Britain and France, each seeking to establish global pre-eminence at the expense of the other. France and Spain fought against England and their ally Prussia in Europe and overseas. Long-standing rivalries pitted these adversaries against one another in North America and the West Indies.
No less a personage than Winston Churchill described the Seven Years War, which went by different names in its respective theaters (e.g., Franch and Indian Wars (1754-1763); War of the Conquest in French-speaking Canada; the Third Silesian Wear (1756-1763) between Prussia and Austria) as the first “world war” because of its global reach.
For purposes of this post, suffice it to say that in Europe, Prussia sought greater influence in the German states (i.e., Prussia and the other German states did not unite to form Germany until 1871) while Austria sought to contain Prussian influence as well as regain Silesia which they’d lost at the end of the First Silesian War in 1742. Austria failed in this regard. Based on Augustin Weltzel’s discussions, it is evident the city’s fortifications suffered heavy damage from cannonball strikes during the conflict.
Perhaps, the end of the war, new economic opportunities, ongoing deterioration of the defensive walls and towers, along with a need to expand the city caused town officials to gradually remove the fortifications and towers.
The address of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was Oderstrasse 16. The inn stood on the northwest corner of Oderstrasse where it met Bollwerk Strasse. A 1929 street map of Ratibor includes the hotel’s name and location (Figure 11), while a 1933 plan shows the number “16” on Oderstrasse. (Figure 12) A map from around 1890 indistinctly outlines an area where the Bruck’s Hotel stood that is identified by the number “104,” which may indicate the lot number. (Figure 13) Since I don’t have copies of all Ratibor’s plans, it’s not clear when the hotel was first plotted on a map.
The “Prinz von Preußen” is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau and Vienna. (Figures 14a-b) Family ownership of the inn is thought to have begun at around this time.
Next, I’ll discuss a few of the historic maps I had access to, and what they suggest regarding the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel. I’ll also touch on some of Weltzel’s historic accounts for reference.
Let me start by discussing the map that Christoph Sottor dates to 1812 (Figure 15) that I previously described as a birds-eye view of the city with its still-standing fortifications.
“On the newly made plan (in 1812 on the basis of measurements from 1810) the orientation to the west was improved, buildings in towns near Racibórz were described and projections of several buildings in Racibórz itself were marked. The “Situations-Plan von der Stadt Ratibor” covers a smaller area than the 1811 plan and is on a smaller scale, 1 : 7,200. The plan measures 48 cm x 32.3 cm. It was also created by the geometer Andre Wihrheim. The only copy of the plan is in AP Opole, reference number: AP Opole, Rej. Opole. Kart., sign. IX/92. I only have a blurry picture of him.” [EDITOR’S NOTE: “AP Opole” stands for “Archiwum Państwowe Opole,” the State Archives in Opole, Poland]
The main conclusion one can draw from this map is that the defensive towers and curtain walls were mostly still intact in 1812. This means the Bruck’s Hotel, whose approximate location I’ve shown on the map, could not yet have existed at this time since the curtain walls would have impeded its construction.
According to Weltzel, the Bruck’s Hotel was referred to as the “Prinzen von Preußen” (“Princes of Prussia”) rather than “Prinz von Preußen” (“Prince of Prussia”), with no mention of the Bruck surname. He also tells us the property where the hotel was eventually built had previously been owned by the so-called Schützengilde, the shooting club, and sat along Oder Gasse, as Oderstrasse was then known. The Schützengilde had two structures on their property, a Schützenzwinger, or clubhouse, and a Schießstand, or firing range. The clubhouse faced Oder Gasse, while the firing range sat towards the rear of the property closer to the Oder River.
At the time Weltzel was researching his book he had access to the shooting club’s records dating back to 1620. According to these documents the Schützengilde owned the property on Oder Gasse until 1824/25 when they sold it to the city of Ratibor in two transactions; by May 1825 the city had full possession of the entire property. Using the proceeds from the sale of the property, the shooting club purchased another property in town. Seemingly, Weltzel does not discuss how the city used the property following its acquisition.
Peter Albrecht von Preußen uncovered a YouTube video describing the activities of the Schützengilde today featuring none other than my late friend Paul Newerla. While the video is in both German and Polish with subtitles in both these languages, readers can get a general idea of how the shooting club operates today and view some of the antique weapons members fire:
In essence, Paul Newerla says that today the Schützengilde is principally a historical society and functions as a recreational club rather than as a defensive force as it once did. As previously mentioned, the club relocated from Oder Gasse in 1825, but moved again in 1898 to their present location. The existing clubhouse incorporates a tower (Figure 16) that may be a remembrance of the Oder Thor that once stood adjacent to their property on Oder Gasse. According to Paul, the oldest documents the club possesses date to 1925, so he is appealing to anyone that may have older artifacts or memorabilia to contact the club. And finally, we learn the Schützengilde was inoperative from the 8th of May 1945 until 2004, when it was resurrected.
Let me turn now to the two high resolution maps from 1831 and 1843 that Magda sent me and discuss what inferences can be drawn from them. Both plans show two buildings on the property, the 1843 map more distinctly, where the Bruck’s Hotel would eventually be built. On the 1831 map (Figure 17), in the rear structure, that’s to say the shooting range, readers can vaguely make out what Weltzel refers to as a “wall extension” that paralleled the lane where Bollwerk Strasse was ultimately sited. It would appear the firing range incorporated as an extension a fragmentary part of the curtain walls that once surrounded Ratibor.
One thing we can conclude from the 1843 map (Figure 18) is that the Oder Thor, Oder Tower, the tower closest to where the hotel was ultimately built had apparently not yet been demolished, though as previously mentioned the wooden gate had been removed in 1825. The tower is labelled on the map suggesting it was still in place. It’s difficult to know precisely where the Oder Thor was situated relative to the hotel making it hard to know whether it would have impeded construction of the building; however, the defensive curtain walls would assuredly have prevented construction of the inn.
Another thing we can observe from the 1843 ocular map of Ratibor is that if you extend the line that was formerly part of the curtain wall and the extension of the Schießstand, it lines up perfectly with the side of the Oder Thor that was closest to the Oder River.
So, we return to the question of when the Bruck’s Hotel might have been built and what the impetus for doing so would have been. A French travel guide dated 1836 entitled “Manuel du Voyageur en Allemagne” (Handbook for Travelers in Germany), mentions an auberge or inn in Ratibor, “Auberge de Jaeschke.” (Figure 19) Prior to construction of the Bruck’s Hotel this is believed to have been the only guesthouse in Ratibor.
As previously discussed, the “Prinz von Preußen” is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 publication “A Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” and is described as a “very comfortable hotel.” (see Figure 14b) Clearly, by 1850 the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel was open for business. This is further confirmed by a concert the famed Austrian composer Johann Strauss delivered on the 17th of October 1850 in the hotel’s concert hall. (Figure 20) A similar recital by Dr. Franz Lizst four years earlier on the 29th of May 1846 was performed at the so-called “Jaschke’schen Saale” (Figure 21), presumably part of the “Auberge de Jaeschke,” indirect evidence the newer and larger Prinz von Preußen concert hall was not yet open.
According to Weltzel, the anticipated arrival of the railroad in Ratibor, which began service on the 1st of January 1846, caused a “building boom” between 1842 and 1850. If the 1843 map is accurate, the Oder Thor still stood at this time, so construction of the hotel post-dates its removal. While there is no smoking gun, the indirect evidence points to the Prinz von Preußen having been built sometime between 1845 and 1847, coinciding with the arrival of the railroad. No doubt regular train service and mention of the Prinz von Preußen in an English travel guide would have accelerated the number of visitors and tourists from Germany, Austria, and far-off places who would have expected modern conveniences. It can only be hoped the hotel’s Grundbuch still exists and is eventually found to definitively answer the question of what year the inn was built.
Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.
Note: In this post, I shift from discussing primary source documents related to my great-great-grandfather Samuel Bruck (1808-1863), thought to have been the original owner of the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor, Prussia, to talking about my grandfather Felix Bruck (1864-1927), assuredly the last Bruck family owner of the hotel. I examine some records that shed light on the final months of my family’s connection to the establishment.
The inspiration for several recent posts comes from interested readers, ancestral researchers, family, and friends and acquaintances. These people have either sent me contemporary accounts or made me aware of primary source documents in various Polish State Archives related to some of my earliest Bruck relatives from Silesia. (Figure 1) These records, though not infallible, provide a framework for evaluating and assessing the accuracy of vital data obtained elsewhere, as well as placing my ancestors in their proper historic and cultural context. As mentioned elsewhere, primary source documents are my gold standard.
In May of this year, I was contacted by a gentleman, Mr. Kamil Kotas, formerly from the Powiat Raciborski, Racibórz District of Poland, now living in Münster in the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia. Having stumbled on my blog and seen the various posts about the former family-owned hotel in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, Kamil told me he’d come across two files citing the Bruck’s Hotel from the interwar years during his online search of the Polish State Archives. (Figures 2-3) He realized my bibliography made no mention of either, so sent me links to the two files:
Having nothing specifically to do with my family, what immediately caught my attention when I opened the links is that the files are archived at the Archiwum Państwowe we Wrocławiu Oddział w Kamieńcu Ząbkowickim, State Archives in Wrocław Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki. Regular readers may recall that Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland is the current name of the German Silesian town of Kamenz where my dear friend Peter Albrecht von Preußen’s family once owned the still-standing castle. I wrote about the castle in Post 135. Kamieniec Ząbkowicki and Racibórz are about 79 miles apart. (Figure 4) In any case, this puts an exclamation point on something I’ve repeatedly stressed, namely, that you should not confine your search for information about your ancestors to the town where they once lived.
Because the online tags for the two files on the Bruck’s Hotel give no clue as to what they contain, I ordered both. After several weeks they arrived, and I turned to my friend Peter Hanke to help me make sense of the file from 1926. While the “Bruck’s Hotel” name was retained by future owners after it was sold by my grandfather Felix Bruck (Figure 5), I knew he had sold it before his death in June 1927. (Figure 6) Consequently, I’ve confined my examination to the earlier of the two files.
The hotel “Prinz von Preußen” is owned by the hotel owner Felix Bruck and was managed alternately by the owner and tenants. Currently, the actual tenant of the hotel is the Peace Lodge e.V. in Ratibor, which handed over the management to Hugo Eulenstein in July 1926. Eulenstein, born in Hammestädt [= Hammerstedt] in Th[uringia] in 1869, moved from Barmen [now a district of Wuppertal] and formerly managed the Grand Hotel on Lake Geneva, then was reportedly general manager of both the Caux and Montreux hotels and then owner of the Continental Hotel in Montreux, which he lost because of the war. He is also said to have been a director at the Carlton Hotel in Frankfurt a.M. and the Bayerischer Hof in Munich.
Eulenstein is the concession holder and reportedly pays an annual rent of 12000 Reichsmark. The hotel was rebuilt and renovated in 1925. The staff consists of 1 chef de cuisine, 4 to 5 waiters, 1 valet and 5 to 6 girls for the kitchen and guest rooms. The value of the existing stock is estimated at about 5000 to 6000 Reichsmark.
The financial situation is not considered unfavorable, but in the opinion of our informants the development of the circumstances remains to be seen, especially since the former tenant Max Künzer managed the hotel without success. At present, a small loan is considered permissible and at the same time it is recommended that a certain degree of caution not be disregarded.
In the letter, the credit agency W. Schimmelpfeng asks the Friedensloge e.V. in Ratibor whether it “. . .would provide information about the personal and financial circumstances of Mr. Eulenstein.”
In a reply letter from my grandfather Felix Bruck dated the 22nd of November 1926 from Berlin he writes: “Mr. Eulenstein is not my tenant but that of the Friedensloge e.V. in Ratibor, to whom I have leased my hotel for several years. I do not know Mr. Eulenstein personally, nor am I aware of his circumstances. The Friedensloge should be able to give you the most information.”
In a letter dated the 12th of November 1926, the following is written:
“Bruck’s Hotel is one of the oldest hotels in Ratibor. Since June 26, 1900, the hotel has been registered in the Commercial Register A under the name “Fedor Bruck Hotel Prinz von Preussen Ratibor” under No. 24. Over the years, the hotel was managed alternately by the owner (Bruck) and by tenants. The last tenant was Max Künzer. He went bankrupt on June 23, 1926. I have reported about it to you under 25 June 1926. Due to the lack of any bankruptcy estate, the bankruptcy proceedings were discontinued after some time. At present the actual tenant of this hotel is the Jewish Lodge in Ratibor. They pay an annual rent of 11000 Reichsmark to the owner Bruck. However, the Lodge leased the hotel to the hotelier Hugo Eulenstein and he has been running it since July 13, 1926. He has a good reputation as a professional. He managed the Grand Hotel on Lake Geneva, was general manager of the two hotels Caux above Montreux and then owner of the Hotel Continental in Montreux (Figure 8), which he lost because of the war. He is also said to have been director of Carlton Hotel in Frankfurt a.M. and of the Bayerischer Hof in Munich. In the innkeeper circles it is strange that Eulenstein comes to Ratibor after such a brilliant career.
Eulenstein was born on December 15, 1869 in Hammestädt [= Hammerstedt] in Th[uringia], married to Hertha née Voth from Cologne since August 7, 1919, and in Ratibor since August 7, 1926. He came from Barmen [now a district of Wuppertal]. He has one child aged 6 years. His deceased father was a landowner. No disadvantageous things have become known about him so far.
He is a concession holder, and the business is in his name. He is not yet registered under commercial law. The annual rent is reduced and is said to be 12,000 Reichsmark. Eulenstein claims to have invested a working capital of 15000 Reichsmark in the business. The hotel was rebuilt and renovated last year. It meets all the requirements of modern times. The staff consists of 1 chef de cuisine, 4-5 waiters, 1 valet and 5-6 girls for the kitchen and guest rooms. According to experience so far, it will have an annual turnover of about 160000 Reichsmark. His warehouse will have a value of 5000-6000 Reichsmark. House and land ownership is not available. His financial situation is still little known in Ratibor but is generally considered favorable. Complaints about his mode of payment have not yet become known. A loan of a few hundred Reichsmark does not seem questionable at present. Nevertheless, caution would be advisable. Without obligation.”
EDITOR’S REMARKS:
The letter is signed and dated the 14th of November 1926, perhaps by an officer of the credit agency who received the letter. Initially, I thought the letter was written by my grandfather, but I now think it was written by a representative from the tenant organization, the Friedensloge e.V.
This is the most informative of the documents contained in the file, providing the date when the Firm of “Fedor Bruck Hotel Prinz von Preussen Ratibor” was registered in the Handelsregister on the 26th of June 1900.
These pages confirm the Friedensloge e.V. was my grandfather’s tenant after Max Künzer went bankrupt and the Peace Lodge subleased the hotel to the experienced hotelier Hugo Eulenstein. Some vital statistics about Hugo and his family are also provided.
My historian friend from Racibórz sent me a series of undated Bruck’s Hotel advertisements from the time my grandfather owned the hotel to the period post-dating his ownership. (Figures 9a-b) One indicates that Max Künzer was the “inh. =inhaber,” owner, when it’s known that he was merely a tenant who went bankrupt. Another undated advertisement shows Hugo Eulenstein as the owner.
November 12, 1926: Felix Bruck, owner; Max Künzer, former tenant, bankrupt
November 18, 1926: Felix Bruck, Ratibor, “knows nothing”
November 25, 1926: Friedensloge e.V. Ratibor
May 21, 1927: Bruck’s Hotel Prinz von Preußen Hugo Eulenstein as the current owner
EDITOR’S REMARKS:
From Pages 4-5, we know that the tenant Max Künzer filed for bankruptcy on the 23rd of June 1926. It appears the Friedensloge e.V. Ratibor subsequently leased the hotel from my grandfather, and in turn subleased it to the hotelier Hugo Eulenstein. No later than the 21st of May of 1927, Hugo had purchased the hotel from my grandfather, who died on the 23rd of June 1927 in Berlin.
As previously mentioned, the above 1926 file discussing my family’s hotel establishment in Ratibor interestingly originates from the State Archives in Wrocław Branch in Kamieniec Ząbkowicki.
Coincidentally, I have another relevant primary source document embedded in a file archived at the Branch State Archives in Katowice, Racibórz, copied for me by Ms. Magda Wawoczny, the Polish student acquaintance from Jagiellonian University. The information on this one page (Figure 10) coincides with the period when my grandfather’s tenant, Max Künzer, went bankrupt. Translated, the text reads:
(no. 37): On August 14, 1926, the Ratibor District Court determined that a debt of 600 Reichsmark exists for inventory taken over.
The creditor is Felix Bruck from Berlin (district W15), Düsseldorferstrasse 24I, who had registered this amount on July 14, 1926.
Given the timing of Max Künzer’s bankruptcy, I surmise the following may have happened. When Mr. Künzer leased the Bruck’s Hotel, which also gave him access to the restaurant and bar, my grandfather likely additionally transferred the inventory to Max. This would have included food pantry items for the kitchen, liquor for the bar, pots, pans, glasses, silverware, china, linen, cleaning supplies, etc., in other words any items required for the daily operation of the hotel. When Mr. Künzer went bankrupt, the bankruptcy court likely seized any remaining inventory, and sold them to repay creditors While the court determined my grandfather was owed 600 Reichsmark, it’s unclear from the register entry that any monies were ever disbursed to him as a creditor, likely one of many.
The documents discussed above relate to the final months of my grandfather’s ownership of the family hotel in Ratibor, from mid-to-late 1926. However, several years ago, another of my Polish acquaintances, Małgosia Płoszaj from Rybnik, Poland, copied and sent me an additional file related to the Bruck’s Hotel that is also archived at Branch State Archives in Katowice, Racibórz. I recently had my friend Peter Albrecht summarize the contents of this “Polizei Verwallung zu Ratibor,” Ratibor police station file. (Figure 11a-b)
This police folder includes a collection of the Prinz von Preußen’s hotel and liquor licenses, violations to the stipulations of these permits, and compliance with fire safety and electrical requirements of the Prussian State. The records date from June 1912 until August 1928. The file documents the Ratibor Police Department’s enforcement of the 1808 Kingdom of Prussia’s liquor licensing requirements, including liquor production, wholesaling, and retail sales at the establishment. Over time, fire safety plans, related for example to gas lighting, also had to be submitted, as well as plans for addressing electrical requirements.
In conjunction with a new or renewed application for a liquor license and business permit, building drawings had to be submitted. The permit was granted on the 11th of June 1912 by the City Council (Der Stadtausschuss) following submission of the building drawings on the 20th of May 1912 and inspection by the city’s inspector. Several changes were requested by the inspector including that the curtains be impregnated with fire-retardant and that the locks between the ballroom (Saal) and the side room (Gesellschaftsraum) be removed since only the side room had an exit door to the outside of the building.
Many of the pages in the file involve applications by groups who wanted to hold an event in the ballroom and were requesting an extension of the curfew or “last call,” or the so-called “Sperrstunde,” beyond the normal 10pm hour.
My grandfather was only fined once for a violation, for the minor infraction of a patron not signing the guest book upon their departure.
In closing, I will concede that much of the information found in primary source documents mentioning my grandfather and the Bruck’s Hotel is rather mundane in nature, but I would again stress to ancestral researchers that the mere survival of similar records between 100 and 200 years of age help paint a portrait of a past very much different than the one we live in. And, often, buried within these documents are tidbits of chronological and contextual information that round out one’s understanding of our ancestors’ lives.
REFERENCE
Hyckel, Georg. Ein Führer durch die Stadt Ratibor und ihre Geschichte. Ratibor, ca. 1930.
Note: A recent article in “National Geographic” made me realize the Egyptian mummy displayed at the Museum in Racibórz, the town where my father was born in 1907, dates not from the 12th dynasty (1985-1773 BC), as I previously understood, but rather from the 22nd dynasty (943-716 BC). As a retired archaeologist, and in anticipation of an upcoming trip my wife and I have planned to Egypt, this inadvertent discovery allows me to correct the record and provide brief details on the evolution of Egyptian mummification.
The August 2023 issue of National Geographic includes a short article by Jason Treat entitled “The Golden Age of Mummification,” describing how archaeological excavations at an ancient mortuary complex is shedding light on how this craft was once a booming business including for more than just pharaohs. The workshop associated with the necropolis, or cemetery, of the ancient capital of Memphis, Saqqara, was discovered in 2016; this site is situated along the west bank of the Nile River not far from Cairo. Excavations in a burial shaft there referred to as “K24,” dating to the 26th dynasty (664 B.C.-c. 525 B.C.), provide evidence that embalming took place underground, in this instance at a depth of 40 feet. Astonishingly, the shaft at K24 extends to a depth of 98 feet. It is believed that the deeper a body was buried, the more wealthy or important the individual was likely to have been in life.
By the 26th dynasty, the rituals and processes of mummification had been around for more than 2,000 years. During the Early Dynastic Period associated with the 1st through 3rd dynasties (3150 B.C.- 2613 B.C.), the mummies found in Saqqara were believed to be royal, though as early as the Old Kingdom, beginning with the 4th dynasty (c. 2613 to 2494 B.C.), elite nonroyals were also being mummified.
A figure included in Jason Treat’s article, labeled “The Evolution of Mummification in Ancient Egypt,” alerted me to the fact that the mummy displayed at the Museum in Racibórz was incorrectly attributed to the 12th dynasty. The dates I initially provided, 946-722 B.C., I quickly realized correspond to the 22nd dynasty. I confirmed with Magda Wawoczny, my acquaintance from Racibórz, that my earlier understanding as to the age of the mummified Egyptian lady, Dzed-Amonet-ius-anch, was in error; Magda explained the mummy and sarcophagus were dated at between 800 and 750 B.C. using C-14 dating.
I expect that for most readers, the significance of the mummy in Racibórz is how the remains wound up there rather than its age, yet in the interest of accuracy I feel a need to correct the previously provided information.
Below, I’ll point out a few differences in how the Egyptian lady may have been mummified.
As mentioned, during the Early Dynastic Period associated with the mummification exclusively of royals, bodies were wrapped in linen bandages treated with resin and mineral salts, with the entrails left in the body. By the Middle Kingdom, including the 12th dynasty, techniques occasionally involved removal of the brain via the nostrils and the injection of resins to dissolve entrails, which were subsequently removed through body orifices. By the 22nd dynasty, part of the Third Intermediate Period, mummification had reached its apex. By this time, efforts were undertaken to make the body look as lifelike as possible and included stuffing the cavity to preserve its shape.
As mentioned in Post 140, the Egyptian mummy displayed in Racibórz supposedly originates from a necropolis in Thebes, near present-day Luxor. Baron Rothschild purchased it along with three canopic jars presumably containing the viscera in 1860 while on a trip to Egypt. Stripped of its provenience and absent any recorded information as to its origin, the hieroglyphics on the sarcophagus provide the most useful clues about the mummy. Supposedly, Baron Rothschild purchased it as a gift for his fiancé who was apparently not amused. I can find no indication a marriage to a second wife ever took place.
In any case, shortly after his return from Egypt, at his palace in Šilheřovice, in current-day Czech Republic, Rothschild in the presence of guests invited to a social gathering had two sarcophagi opened, the cartonnage cut, and the embalmed linen-covered corpse unwrapped. In 1864, the baron decided to donate the souvenirs from his Egyptian journey to the Antiquity Department of the Royal Evangelical Gymnasium in Racibórz. When the museum in Racibórz opened in 1927, they formally took possession of the mummy.
While the Egyptian mummy ultimately wound up in a museum, where it rightfully always should have been, this incident reminded me of an account by the world-famous Egyptian archaeologist, Dr. Zahi Hawass in connection with the 2006 Tutankhamun exhibit at the Field Museum in Chicago. The incident in question speaks to the fact that antiquities belong in museums not in private collections. In Dr. Hawass’ own words:
“. . .my experiences have provided me with many interesting stories. Let me tell you one of my favorites here: In 2006, the Tutankhamun was going to open in the Field Museum in Chicago under the sponsorship of Exelon, an American energy company. At the press conference, where we were to announce the opening, the executive vice-president of Exelon apologized that the company president, John Rowe, could not attend the conference because he had a meeting with President George W. Bush. The vice-president mentioned that Mr. Rowe loved ancient Egypt and even had an Egyptian coffin in his office.
I stood up and said that King Tutankhamun would not have been pleased to see an ancient coffin in a private office. Antiquities, I announced, must be either left at their original sites or kept in museums where everyone could see and enjoy them. I said that this coffin had to be given to the Field Museum or I would remove Exelon’s name from sponsorship of the Tutankhamun exhibition. Rowe refused, and the story made the first page of the ‘Chicago Tribune.’ I wrote an official letter to delete Exelon from all the written documents associated with the exhibition—and Rowe finally agreed to give the coffin as a gift to the Field Museum. On its front page the ‘Chicago Tribune’ declared that two pharaohs were fighting and the real one won.” (Hawass 2019:14-15)
The following is a guest post written by Ms. Magda Wawoczny, a student in Jewish studies at Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland, who hails from Racibórz, Poland. Magda first contacted me in 2021 when she was working on her bachelor’s degree and interviewed me about my family’s connection to Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), when the city was part of Germany. Regular readers know that my family owned the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor from around 1850 through the mid-1920s. Knowing I had visited Racibórz on a few occasions, Magda was also interested in my impressions of the city.
In May 2023, Magda reached out to me again in connection with her ongoing master’s degree work in Jewish studies, still centered around her hometown. Surprisingly, she asked if I could help her get in touch with Monica Lewinsky’s father, Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, who is a Radiation Oncologist in Los Angeles. Unbeknownst to me, Monica’s immediate ancestors come from Ratibor and her great-grandfather, Salo Lewinsky, was once buried in the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor.
More recently Magda has been researching a Jewish woman by the name of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann (1873-1928) whose body had been exhumed in 1972 from the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor prior to its destruction in 1973 and reburied in the town’s Catholic cemetery. The reason for this is explained in the current post. Magda’s interest in contacting Dr. Lewinsky stems from the fact that the Lewinsky and Linzer families were friends. Whereas the Lewinsky family emigrated to El Salvador during the 1920s and thereby survived the Holocaust, most of Minna Linzer’s family stayed in Ratibor and therefore perished.
Separately, but at around the same time as I was trying to reach Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, a German lady by the name of Ms. Jessica Nastos contacted me through my blog’s webmail. Jessica had stumbled upon Post 72 where I discussed so-called cabinet cards. One studio I’d specifically mentioned that produced these cards in Ratibor was the Helios Photo Studio, which was the subject of my previous post. Jessica told me her mother had once worked in the studio and offered to send me contemporary photos of the studio including a picture of an old envelope with the studio’s name and logo. Upon receiving the pictures, I realized they included images of the Linzer’s that Magda has been researching, including most family members from Ratibor who died in the Holocaust; astonishingly, there was even a picture of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann with her oldest son Jan (German: Hans). Minna’s husband, Hermann Linzer (1874-1944), carried this photo with him throughout World War I, and a bullet hole through the photo attests to a wound he suffered during the war. (Figure A)
When so many Jews were murdered by the Nazis in their effort to obliterate proof of their existence, it is bitter satisfaction to uncover photos of some of these people to emphasize the fact that the Nazis ultimately failed.
With the above as backdrop, I now turn the lectern over to Magda.
POST 139: THE STORY OF A JEWISH WOMAN BURIED IN RACIBÓRZ’S CATHOLIC CEMETERY
BY
MAGDA WAWOCZNY
JAGIELLONIAN UNIVERSITY
The most important places related to the Jewish heritage of Racibórz that survived the end of World War II were the synagogue and the cemetery. While the synagogue was destroyed by a fire on the 9th of November 1938 on Kristallnacht (Figure 1), it endured as a ruin until it was demolished, the exact date of which is still being investigated. By contrast, the cemetery survived basically intact. Unfortunately, the Jewish inhabitants of Racibórz disappeared from the city’s landscape during the war—those who managed to escape after Kristallnacht survived outside Germany, those who remained died in concentration camps. As a result, the Jewish cemetery in Racibórz was eventually razed since the community which it had served no longer existed to take care of it. Or so it seemed until now. . .
Currently, for the purposes of my master’s thesis, I am researching the Jewish cemetery which was ultimately demolished in 1973. Based on the available sources, it is known that before the liquidation, photo documentation of all the burials and headstones was made by Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński (Figure 2) at the request of the city authorities. The documentation is on file at the Museum of Racibórz, and illustrates impressive tombstones made of marble, granite, and sandstone. In this post I will focus on one belonging to Minna Linzer, née Guttmann. (Figure 3)
During my archival investigations, my attention was drawn to an application by a woman from Racibórz who requested permission from the city authorities to exhume the body of her grandmother Minna Linzer from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery and transfer it together with the tombstone to the Catholic cemetery in the Ostróg district on Rudzka street. The woman emphasized that in the face of the anticipated liquidation of the cemetery, she felt an obligation to save the grave of her grandmother that she had taken care of and maintained for many years. The granddaughter was Elizabeth (Elzbieta) “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka. Her application to the city authorities was accompanied by a card with the inscription “eternal memory of those lost in the Auschwitz camp: Hermann Linzer, Jan Linzer, Małgorzata and Henryk Schiftan, Lota and Maks Tichauer.” (Figure 4)
Knowing only Elizabeth’s name and address, I started searching for her relatives. Fortunately, I managed to reach Elizabeth’s son, Minna’s great-grandson currently living in Germany. He explained that Elizabeth was the daughter of a Jewish man and a Catholic woman, and that the above-mentioned names are inscribed on the relocated grave in the Catholic cemetery. Elizabeth’s son mentioned that his mother took care of his great-grandmother’s tomb, and when she learned it was about to be destroyed, asked permission for the grave to be exhumed. Fascinatingly, he also mentioned that his mother had looked after the grave of Monica Lewinsky’s great-grandfather, Salo Lewinsky. (Figure 5) Despite directions from Elisabeth’s son to Minna’s grave in the Catholic cemetery, it was not easy to find.
Having been given the name of Salo Lewinsky’s still living grandson, Bernard Lewinsky, by Lilly’s son, I decided to try and contact him. For this purpose, I asked Richard Brook, author of this blog, for help. Dr. Lewinsky is an oncologist in Los Angeles, so he was quickly able to get in touch with him. Upon establishing contact, Dr. Lewinsky confirmed that his father George Lewinsky (1903-1989) had remained in contact with Elisabeth who took care of his father’s grave. Until the death of Bernard’s father, the families remained in contact. Unfortunately, the grave of Bernard’s grandfather, Salo, could not be saved when the Jewish cemetery was dismantled.
Thanks also to Richard’s help, I was able to obtain some information on the names inscribed on Minna Guttmann’s headstone and found on the card accompanying Elizabeth’s request to exhume her grave, such as their former place of residence, their occupations, and the date of the deportations to the Theresienstadt concentration camp.
A breakthrough in my research came when Richard coincidentally received an email from Elizabeth’s great-granddaughter, Jessica Nastos, about the Helios Photo Studio which was the subject of Richard’s blog Post 138; it turns out “Lilly” had worked there. Thanks to Jessica, I learned that Elizabeth was the child of a Jew, Jan Linzer (mentioned on the card accompanying Elizabeth’s application to the city authorities), and a Catholic, Paulina Grzonka, who could not be together due to the Nazi rule and the specter of war. (Figure 6) To protect themselves and Elizabeth, Paulina and Jan decided not to get married, although they symbolically exchanged rings as keepsakes, with each other’s initials engraved on them. Paulina (1895-1971) and Elizabeth (1926-2016) survived, while Jan (1901-1945) died in the Auschwitz concentration camp.
Thanks to Jessica’s information, it was possible to establish the identities of the people on the card. Minna Linzer (1873-1928) was the first wife of Hermann Linzer (1874-1944). She died in 1928, and after her death Hermann got remarried to a woman named Amalie Nebenzahl (1884-1944). Both died in 1944 in Theresienstadt. Hermann and Minna had four children: Jan (German: Hans), Małgorzata (German: Margaret), Lota, and Leo. Leo, the youngest son, was the only one who survived the war. (Figure 7) Małgorzata and Lota together with their husbands also died in Theresienstadt.
Thanks to Jessica, based on photos from the 1990s, which show a relocated grave in the Catholic cemetery, I was able to find it. It is still there and in very good condition. (Figure 8) When it seemed that only archival documents and stories remained of the city’s Jewish heritage, it turns out that there is a preserved remnant of Jews in Racibórz, and Minna’s grave is proof of that.
